


And bravely in her bosom fair

by Cerberusia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Body Part Kinks, Breasts, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerberusia/pseuds/Cerberusia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Lydia, Allison never cared about breasts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And bravely in her bosom fair

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the folksong 'Lowlands Away': 'And bravely in her bosom fair/Lowlands, lowlands away, my John/A red, red rose my love did wear/Lowlands, lowlands away'.

Before Lydia, Allison never cared about breasts. Her own were nice, but nothing spectacular, and she'd never been very interested in other girls'. They were aesthetically pleasing, sure, but she didn't have any trouble maintaining eye contact with their owners.

And then Lydia happened, and God help her but she can't take her eyes off Lydia's breasts. It's not that they're the biggest she's seen - though Lydia is fairly busty for her size - it's that's they're attached to Lydia. Whenever she wears a low-cut top - which is often - Allison practically has to fish her eyeballs out of her girlfriend's cleavage. It's ridiculous, not to mention sort of rude. She's sure Lydia has noticed her fixation - shit, it'd be difficult not to - and she's been trying to rein herself in, but since Lydia's kept on wearing cleavage-exposing dresses and leaning over in front of her, Allison's starting to suspect that Lydia may actually be encouraging her. Or possibly she just thinks Allison's reactions are hilarious; Lydia's motives are often difficult to discern.

It comes to a head when they go back to Lydia's house after a trip to the movie theater. It's been a sticky summer, so Allison thinks nothing of it when Lydia strips off her dress to change into a cooler clean one - except that she also reaches behind her back to undo her bra, and casually strips that off as well.

Fuck.

Lydia's breasts - god, Lydia's breasts. Okay, so part of the fixation is that they're bigger than Allison's - like, notably bigger. And Allison's okay with her own, because they're still a respectable B cup, perfectly nice, actually pretty cute and don't get in the way of archery, but Lydia's tits are a whole different ball game. They're not just hemispheres, but actually _round_ , each tipped with a small, rosy pink nipple. Allison wants to touch them. Fuck, Allison wants to _lick_ them.

And then Lydia turns her back, wearing nothing but her pale blue knickers - and oh god, a companion fixation on Lydia's ass is the last thing Allison needs - and pulls another dress out of her closet: pale yellow linen, just right for this weather.

"It's so hot and sticky, I thought I'd just go wild and free," she explains to her reflection. Allison closes her mouth, nods, and hopes she isn't making a stupid face as she deliberately focusses on Lydia's face in the mirror rather than her mostly-naked body. She doesn't want to creep on her girlfriend without her consent, or anything.

"You look conflicted," says Lydia, unzipping the dress.

"Uh," says Allison, eyes briefly flicking down to watch her girlfriend's breasts jiggle in the mirror. Oh, wow. She looks back up in time to see Lydia roll her eyes.

"You're welcome to look," she says airily. "Though really, it's not necessary to be quite so amazed by breasts when you've got a pair yourself."

Allison shrugs.

"Yeah, but..." She shrugs again. "It's different." She gathers the courage to look down again, and finds herself unable to look away. "They're amazing, Lydia," she adds. "Seriously, I'm jealous."

"Is that all?" Lydia says it in the same light tone, but Allison thinks there's something behind it. So she says, honestly:

"Well, no, I also really want to touch them. And kiss them. And -" She can't get the rest of the words out. She feels herself go red: she's not shy about sex or telling a partner what she likes, but it feels different when it's not in the heat of passion: just her and Lydia, stood in Lydia's bedroom on a sunny summer's afternoon, the sun's rays picking out threads of gold in Lydia's hair. She's turned-on and just a little nervous. She can hit a moving target at more than a hundred metres, but Lydia's not the kind of threat she knows how to defend herself against.

Lydia smiles her cat-like smile and carefully, deliberately, puts the dress to one side. Then she turns around, flicks her hair over her shoulder, and says,

"So what are you waiting for?"


End file.
